


Your Money or Your Life

by Emby_M



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Arthur's let in on some secrets, Backstory, Contradicting Accounts of the Same Story, First Meetings, Gen, How the Gang Got Started, M/M, The Truth Hurts, Trying to rob your future husband is one hell of a meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 10:39:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17201954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emby_M/pseuds/Emby_M
Summary: "Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you."Oh, he was smiling like a sated cat, that gentleman.-Dutch and Hosea share their version of meeting each other, and the formation of the gang, with Arthur.Much later, Hosea tells him a different version entirely.





	Your Money or Your Life

_"I'll tell you a story, Arthur. It's a fun job. C'mon, listen, you'll learn how to make your contacts out in this crime-filled world."_

_"Do I have to," Arthur grumbles into his stew._

_"Yes!" Dutch barks-laughs._

_"If it's the one I'm thinking of, then you should, Arthur. But you can keep eating," Hosea says, smiling gently, "It's a good one."_

_"Alright," Arthur says, chewing on a slightly under-cooked carrot. Hosea's the best cook out of the three of them but he's no master._

_"Hm, where should I start," Dutch says, tapping his clean-shaven chin and glancing over dramatically at Hosea, who laughs. "Oh, I know..."_

It seemed like it should be an easy job, out there in Peoria.

The target was slim, handsome fellow, probably only a little older than I was. The kind who radiates middle-class contentment. This particular gent was well turned out, a new-looking straw boater and a clean, well-fit coat.

I was watching him, seeing how dangerous it would be to rob him -- I'd already done quite a few robberies and some of them had gone south on me. I watched him bid goodbye to his wife, kissing her hand rather than kissing her in the street. I watched him doff his hat to every old friend he'd pass, and there were many. He greeted each one. When the children would come up to him, he would ask them how their days had been, what was interesting them in school, all these silly questions. And then each kid would get a piece of candy.

So, a completely safe kind of target.

I tracked him for a while, for about an hour, when he suddenly took off down an alleyway. Unusual, I'd thought, but lucky. Up until then he'd been swamped with his friends, and there was no point to robbing him then. No, the alleyway was a gift to a gentleman thief.

Now, I was going down, following him through these alleyways, carefully trailing him so he suspected nothing, and I suppose I was too busy with the pretty way this man was put together -- the tapering, slim waist under well-cut coat, the flash of a sharp cheekbone and a soft brow, the elegantly turned legs-

_"Get on with it," Hosea giggles._

_"I'm getting there! Just admiring this fine gentleman in the meantime," Dutch says, leaning into Hosea._

I was so busy admiring this gentleman, thinking about how he would react to the pistol against his back, if he would cry or tremble, or if he would fight back in that bottled-rage way these types always do, I barely noticed when we reached a dead end.

At the time, I thought it strange, but I didn't really think anything other than "How lucky!"

So I got up close to the gentleman, and pressed the nose of the gun to his back, and said, "Your money or your life."

And I thought it was going to be that simple, until the gentleman turned around and pressed his own pistol to my stomach, quipping "Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you."

Oh, he was smiling like a sated cat, that gentleman. But he was exactly as handsome as I thought, and now with an air of deviousness I love even to this day.

_"Cad," Hosea snickers._

We broke into laughter, the two of us, and we introduced ourselves -- Dutch Van Der Linde and Hosea Matthews, and I asked if he was hungry, and he said yes. So we shared a meal, and Hosea was quite charmed with my roguish nature, and I with his tricky double-persona, and we made the Van Der Linde Gang right then and there-

_"That isn't how it happened," Hosea says, clapping a hand against Dutch's arm._

_Arthur looks up, pausing his chewing. It's about the first time Hosea's contradicted one of Dutch's stories._

_"That is most certainly how it happened," Dutch says. Hosea rolls his eyes._

_"I'll tell my version, then, and you'll get to decide it's how it happened," he laughs, swiping a thumb against Dutch's cheekbone. Dutch laughs too, leaning into the touch._

Most of what Dutch told you is true, in the beginning part.

I was in Peoria with Bessie, my late wife. She was picking up all the dry goods we'd be needing for the month, so I set off separately, trusting her completely with the matter.

I was familiar with Peoria's back streets, and knew my way around robbing tourists and outsiders. Dutch was both those days, so when I noticed him noticing me, I took him for a little chase, doing my business while always keeping an eye out for a handsome young man in my periphery.

When I was certain he was following me, I took off down an alleyway I often used myself to lure tourists into, on the promise of good food and ample beer. He didn't catch on until, as he said, he pressed a gun to my back, and I turned to press one into his stomach.

I did say "Funny, I was about to tell you the same thing," and we did both laugh, but it was I who invited him out to eat. That alleyway really did have a restaurant in it, the back door of it opened onto that alleyway, so we ate together.

It was hardly so immediate we formed the gang! No, we chatted and talked about business. All these things, and the daring robberies he had pulled off prior, and my own. We parted that day, but soon enough we were together again, running heists together in further and further towns once I'd left the position in Peoria, and then soon after that, the gang was born.

 

* * *

 

_"Was that really how you two met?" Arthur says._

_Hosea smiles in his easy chair, leaning his head against one of the wings. "What do you think, Arthur? It's been quite a while since we told you. Years, even."_

_"I... don't know. But something about it felt strange."_

_Hosea smiles. "...They say you're a big dumb brute, but I've always known it isn't true."_

_He gets up from the chair, setting down the book on the small table beside him._

_"Very good perception. Mine was closer to the truth than his, but it still isn't right. Do you want to hear the real version?"_

_"Yes, please."_

_"Don't go telling Dutch, now. He's shy about his old self, and it's... dangerous, maybe, to tell you. But I will tell you."_

We really were in Peoria, but the thing about Peoria is that I was well known there, being a respected secondary-school teacher, while Bessie, my wife, ran the primary school. We were very well-known, and well-liked, you see. I only took from people who the community wouldn't notice, that was true -- those tourists, outsiders... and some folks who were feared and despised.

Dutch, newly orphaned as a man just coming into adulthood and without a single other relative, had turned to crime. He had become a bit of a burden on the community, robbing other schoolteachers and some of my students' parents at gunpoint. He struck quite the distinctive figure, being fully grown already to his massive height, much like you were, Arthur. So it was easy to see him. He was good at being subtle, but only in the way a tall man can be.

So I knew if I dressed in my new hat and coat that I would attract his attention. Right I was, when he did start to trail me, just out of the corner of my eye.

I didn't look at him, as that would have blown the ruse entirely. So it wasn't until we were at the end of that alleyway with my gun pressed into his stomach that I saw him. I did say that line after he said his, that much was true.

... it might be unusual to hear for you, Arthur, but Dutch really has matured. That day, I guess, was one of the worst for him, and it showed.

He looked scared.

I had thought, from the descriptions, that he was this conquering brute, this man who thought he could encroach on Peoria's delicate territory, which had been carefully carved out by me, and the collection of gentlemen thieves who had settled in and around Peoria. But that wasn't the case. Dutch was simply a kid who had nowhere to go. He was, like you had been when we found you, desperate and afraid.

We did laugh, but it was that kind of uneasy chuckle you have to do in situations like that. No, I asked his name, and he told me it. His name isn't Dutch, you know, but I won't tell you what it really is. Trelawny gave him the name "Dutch" later. No, he told me and I told him mine, and told him I would buy him lunch.

He hadn't eaten in a few days, after a string of unsuccessful robberies. So he ate and we talked about jobs, and he told me about his parents, how his mother had died of scarlet fever and so he and his father moved up north, how his father died not long after in a grisly work accident, how the railroad barely paid him anything for losing his father, how the doctor they brought his mother to considered her a risk rather than a patient because she was foreign... all these evils that society had built around him, that left him high and dry. That he had this vision of going out west, where it was you unto yourself, where you didn't have to depend on others to live a good life.

You can see, maybe, where our credo came from, then.

I told him I could put him up somewhere nice, if he would work as a sort of security -- I put him up with a friend of mine who ran a brothel: Miss Grimshaw, actually.

It took a while until we were really underway as a duo, and longer, even, to form the gang. But it was just him wooing all the folks I'd met with a certain charm and captivation until they were working for us -- and then a certain 14-year-old robber who made us into the Van Der Linde Gang, and not just Hosea's crowd.

_Arthur doesn't say much of anything. That was a very different story than the one he was told years ago. Even the gang was different, with more members, John, and Mr. Pearson and Miss Grimshaw -- maybe soon Mrs. Van Der Linde with the way Dutch was wooing her, despite the way he looks at Hosea like he'd hung the moon and stars himself._

_Hosea just smiles and rests a hand on Arthur's shoulder, patting slightly._

_"So that's the reality. Is it all you'd hope it would be?"_

_Arthur doesn't know what to say, so instead he just nods and leaves Hosea's tent._

_He's still not sure it's wholly the truth._

**Author's Note:**

> To be fair, they are conmen. They're gonna lie.  
> If you're interested in more of the Dutch backstory, I'll hopefully be able to post more works with this idea of the public and private face of Dutch Van der Linde. There's a lot there that I and @tacitvskilgore over on tumblr have been discussing.............. Dutch is full of backstory............................. feel free to go an bother tacitvskilgore about it too, cuz he "needs more people to scream about it with"  
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
